Are You Ready?
by dustflare
Summary: The Hunger Games, starting with year one and finishing with year 75. Inspired by the great Jazzy Pseudonym.
1. Rebels and Knives

**A/N: This was inspired by **_Jazzy Pseudonym_**, who definitely deserves credit(: So, um... Anyway, not all of the tributes in here will die, and I'll have at least one from each district, of course -.- If you guys like the idea, I might continue to the fourth quarter quell and act as if the rebellion was -once again- a fail. But I'm not sure. Review and tell me what you think of my story and my little idea.**

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><p><strong><strong>_Year: 1st  
>Tribute: Wolf Prattly from District 2 (victor)<em>

**Wolf Prattly, District 2**

Tearing through the forest, I spit and curse at the failed rebels. They ruined my life; my sister and I were both chosen for this horrible game and it's entirely their fault.

Leaves crunch a few yards away. Suddenly, my knife is whizzing through the air, reflecting the golden sunlight. My target lets out a high-pitched scream and I look up to see who I've killed.

I am the victor of the first ever Hunger Games. And I killed my sister.


	2. Colour of Blood

_Year: 2nd_  
><em>Tribute: Shaye Kuy from District 6 (dead)<em>

**Shaye Kuy, District 6**

Bright red apples tumble to the ground as I leap from the tree. Looking all directions, I take a step forward. I rub my finger across the blade of my knife and kick at the dirt as another apple hits my head. And then more. The mockingjays' sweet songs block out the rustle of leaves.

Just as I tilt my head up to examine the trees, a figure swoops down like a hawk. I stumble backwards and fall into a pile of those shining scarlet apples.

My life is over almost as quickly as it began. Screeching hysterically, I yank the sword from my stomach. The blade is sticky with my blood, the color of the apples below me. Black and red mix as darkness encloses me.


	3. Bodies

_Year: 3rd  
>Tribute: Ash Woodlen from District 7 (dead) <em>

**Ash Woodlen, District 7**

White and gray. Everything around me is so bleak. My name, Ash, is muttered by several tributes a short distance away. Though something tells me they are not calling for me. It's not hard to guess why.

I hit the ground. Eight eyes are now fixed on me, probably more if you count everyone else in Panem that's watching me onscreen.

Then, as I'm surveying the bodies all around the field, my head suddenly snaps sideways and I watch as the arrow shoots straight for me and pins my heart.

I'm joining the bodies.


	4. Diamond Death

_Year: 4th  
>Tribute: Diamond Kashe from District 1 (dead)<em>

**Diamond Kashe, District 1**

Waving to all my fans, I hop from rock to rock until I reach the other side of the sparkling azure river. Sunlight filters through the trees. The diamond on my necklace shines brightly. I'm absolutely stunning, as always, even in this forest.

Wait, what? What's that?

I whip around, but it's too late. Someone has grabbed my neck. No matter how much I struggle, they won't let go. My lungs are inflamed. My face burns like the hottest fire. Oxygen, I need oxygen.

Weakly, blindly, as a last attempt to restore my oxygen and save my own life, I kick my assailant. But it's too late. Death is ready for me. And I'm ready, too.

My diamond necklace is slipped off my neck.

I'm ready now.


	5. Breathe

_Year: 5th  
>Tribute: Hope Lire, District 5 (victor) <em>

**Hope Lire, District 5**

Crashing through the thorns, feeling my shirt and pants being slightly ripped, I make it to the clearing. And I'm alone.

No, I'm not alone. There's a girl, streaking out of the- what is that? I can't see what it is!

Blindly, I slash behind me with my knife. I don't even know who's attacking me. Who's there? Is that my ally? No, my ally was killed two days ago. It must be that monster from District 9. How has he stayed alive all this time? Maybe it's his size. Surely he hasn't any weapons.

_Keep __your __thoughts __under __control_, I command myself. Often, my mind slips away.

Instantly, my weapon connects with something –or someone- and the grip on my neck is loosened. I slump to the ground, clutching my throat and coughing up my guts.

Finally, I can breathe again. The trumpets blare.


	6. Naive Murderer

_Year: 6th  
>Tribute: Rina Stacaeta, District 3 (victor)<br>Notes: Reeve is Rina's brother (the toddler), Rain is her youngest sister (five), Reuse is the whiny six-year-old sister, and Baele is Rina's only friend. / / I'll be writing a different story about Rina's life and the 6th Hunger Games._

**Rina Stacaeta, District 3**

Silence. I need silence. I cannot sustain this any longer. That high-pitched ringing in my ears… I can't take it.

Screeching, I scramble around in search of my weapon. Where's the knife? It was here only twelve second ago.

It's in my hand. Can I possibly get out of here in a dynamic form? This game has gone on too long. It's been fifteen days. That's at least 360 hours. 21,600 minutes. 1,296,000 seconds. If I win, I should be back home in three or so days, which is equal to… about 259, 200 seconds. Mother will be so beatific. Reuse will be lamenting. Has Reeve electrocuted himself on that socket again? Is Baele pusillanimous as always? How has Rain tolerated Reuse's mourning?

In seven seconds, I've dug my knife into my rival's stomach. My hands are sticky with his scarlet claret. He should be dead in a matter of five minutes if I do not continue stabbing him. His pain, however, should only last sixteen seconds. Again, I thrust my weapon into the District 4 male's ribs. I snap his wrists. His shrieks and howls have ceased. Over and over, I stick him through the heart. Cleave his limbs. Scuff his face.

The cannon booms.  
>I've killed someone.<br>Oh, Rain, please don't watch.


	7. Caliginosity

_Year: 7th  
>Tribute: Catalyn Severs, District 8 (dead)<br>Notes: It's possible that I'll write a story about Catalyn. _

**Catalyn Severs, District 8**

Grinning, I step off my plate. Then I remember I'm playing nice girl. Quickly, I switch my grin to a naïve smile as I dash towards the Cornucopia.

Light flashes before my eyes. A light, airy voice whispers bitterly in my ear.

Panic seizes me with bleak, iron fists. I stumble to the ground. Numbness creeps up my spine, threatening to overtake me. Calignosity sets in. _Where__is__the__light?_ My hands reach out, patting the prickly grass. I can't see anything.

Screaming hysterically, I swat in all directions. _What__'__s__going__on?_ I try to mouth the words "help me," but my jaw won't budge. Perturbed and demoralized and lost in this amaranthine Cimmerian, I surrender.

Forever, the light is gone from my life.


	8. Monster

****_Year: 8th  
>Tribute: Darren Katery, District 10 <em>

**Darren Katery, District 10**

I watch a twelve-year-old girl bleed her heart out on the stone. Claret fills the stream, washing away her life, evanescent and feeble. She was so sweet, so unjaded…

Shaking my head, I turn to leave. And then I'm face to face with probably the most horrifying thing I've seen in my life.

This thing… it's an eighteen-year-old boy, or should I say _monster,_ wielding a sword sharper than anything that's ever crossed my dim field of vision.

And then it happens. Quick as lightning. It's so fast that I don't even have time to think. Just as the blade is about to plunge into my neck and rip my skin to shreds, I grab my dagger from my frazzled, fraying pocket and drive it into his heart.

Trumpets blast almost instantly. A hovercraft appears to take me and the body crumpled at my feet. But have I accomplished anything?

No, I haven't.

I stab myself through my own heart like I did to that eighteen-year-old monster.


	9. Still Breathing

_Year: 9th  
>Tribute: Rafflyn Star, District 9 (victor)<br>Notes: This one was pretty easy to write. I feel attached to Rafflyn, though I don't know why. You'll hear more of her someday. _

**Rafflyn Star, District 9**

Sighing in content, I lean back against a robust oak tree, wondering for only a fraction of a second whether or not it's real. Almost immediately, I shake away the thought; this night will be peaceful.

Every waking moment has been pure revulsion through my eyes, to state it simply. Right as my glass tube exited that musty, aphotic hole and the Cornucopia was in sight, I knew I was trapped. The other tributes don't want to admit it to themselves, but they're all trapped, too. Trapped under the Capitol's transgressions.

Icy claws rake at my heart. I long to reunite with my family, to embrace my sister and see her warm, laughing face. More than anything, I want to see my boyfriend, Jay.

This arena is slowly eating me alive. It's like I'm suffocating, with those rimy barbs piercing my throat, raking down my skin, cutting off my oxygen. Even more petrifying is the vast lake of ice-cold water. Scratching and struggling and admittedly, dieing, I'm dragged forward.

Penetrating water bites my skin the second I plunge under. Mushy ice enters my mouth. Kicking with as much force as possible, I fight my way to the surface. I think I'm getting closer…

My face resurfaces.  
>I can breathe.<br>A cannon booms.  
>Trumpets blare.<br>I'm still breathing.


	10. Flash

_Year: 10th  
>Tribute: Shade Greenfield, District 9 (dead)<br>Notes: Shade was mentioned by Rafflyn in the last chapter. _

**Shade Greenfield, District 9**

I'm falling. Reality is slipping away…

_Help __me._

Spreading out my arms, I squeeze my eyes shut. Branches scrape at my back. Pinecones slap my cheeks.

Suddenly, the sense of descending has faded. Opening my eyes again, I realize I'm lying in a bed of roses, with the sun shining across the field.

The last thing I remember before I suck in a hesitant, terminal breath is the laughing face of my girlfriend, Rafflyn. I smile feebly. _This __is __for __you, __baby. __Keep __holding __on._

_Flash_

_The light fades_

_I whisper her name_


	11. Home

_Year: 11th  
><em>_Tribute: Xerian Blay, District 5_

**Xerian Blay, District 5**

Grunting, I prop myself up on one elbow. I curse under my breath as a pang of agony strikes me. Each blade of grass is like a knife. The sun seems two times brighter than it should be. My hands tremble. Around me, the trees spin and the world rocks.

Rubbing my hand against my head does not help. Usually, it eases my headache and helps me sleep.

"We got some bread," my ally whispers, tapping my shoulder. I look down at the tiny figure beside me and smile a little. Just seeing her brings back memories from District 5. I need to keep this little girl safe; she reminds me of my younger sister. On the second day of the 11th Hunger Games, I stumbled across her and we formed our alliance. Right then and there, I decided I would sacrifice myself so that she could live. No one at home really needs me anymore. I've done my part.

No. District 5 is not home. Home is here with my little ally. Home is where I'm happy.


	12. Forgotten Lovers

_Year: 12th  
>Tribute: Felicity Ashkay, District 9<br>__D e a d _

**Felicity Ashkay, District 9**

Gently, he twirls me around. As I giggle and spin, I'm lost in this new, blithe sense. No one has ever loved me like this. Not even my mother, who favors my eight-year-old sister, Bliss. Apparently, when I was her age, "talented" was a word that could not be wedged into my label. Even now, I'm nowhere near as adroit as Bliss.

Sure, my family loved me, but this right here is the real kind of love. The kind you lose yourself in. The kind that makes you feel wanted. I feel so right.

"Marry me," I lightly say, my voice as melodic as the mockingjays' lofty hymns.

"Felicity," he whispers, "we're in the Hunger Games. Sweetheart, we can't get married, no matter how bad I want it."

I laugh airily. "I'll get us both out alive." When his response is a broken smile, I add, "I love you. Jay, you know me. I'll get us out." I'm growing desperate. "Don't you see? This year can be different. This year, we can both win, like it or not. The Capitol, I don't care about 'em."

"Felicity," he repeats. Then he tips my chin up and kisses me softly. As he's letting me go, our hands clasp together and a tear runs down my cheek.

Our moment ends. Seconds later, he's on the ground, an arrow buried in his spine, another in his stomach. Kneeling beside him, I beg him not to leave me. "Stay with me!" I cry, voice cracking. "Stay, please stay. Don't leave. I can't make it without you."

Again, he only smiles effetely, takes my heated, sweaty hand in his cold one, and mouths those three words. "I love you." His cannon booms.

Jay's killer is standing on the outskirts of the forest, smirking. He brings up his bow. With tears streaming down my face, I hold out my arms for him to have a clear aim. He shoots. My knees buckle. Painlessly, I fall beside Jay.

The District 9 lovers are dead, never to be known. We'll soon be forgotten, like all the other tributes who die.


	13. No More Nightmares

_Year: 13th  
>Tribute: Reila Santay, District 11<br>__F a t e u n k n o w n _

**Reila Santay, District 11**

Water percolates down my arms and legs, deluging a large portion of my injuries. I splash another handful on face. Compared to the past few days, this is paradise.

I scrub the filth off my feet. Clean my wounds. Scrape the blood off my hands. After a while, my body is almost completely free from the feculence that previously obscured my identity. Now, I'm myself again, I'm Reila Santay altogether.

Two hours of eating and scouring has left me subsided. Settling into a nest of pine straw and leaves, I close my eyes and drift into a halcyon sleep. Dreams of my family members laughing and teasing fill my mind.


	14. Differences

_Year: 14th  
>Tribute: Fayne Barrada, District 12<br>__A l i v e _

**Fayne Barrada, District 12**

The gong sounds. I dash off my metal plate and head towards the Cornucopia. Blinding sunlight glares in my eyes. Very, very bright… My hand reaches up to act as a visor, shielding the bright light from my face.

Grinning, I snatch a spear and chuck it at the District 1 girl. It's just a fact that District 1 tributes aren't known for intelligence and stealth. They're known for their battle skills during hand-to-hand combat. Their ease of handling weapons is simply beautiful. The way that knife twirls in the girl's steady, nimble fingers…

In an instant, my spear has made contact with her neck. I sprint over and yank it away, spewing blood all over my face.


	15. Haunted

_Year: 15th  
><em>_Tribute: Aria Ley, District 5  
><em>_F a t e u n k n o w n_

**Aria Ley, District 5**

Cannons boom in the distance. Pictures of the dead tributes light up the night sky, temporarily obscuring the twinkling stars. Hushed voices whisper urgently to one another about a hundred yards away.

"How did that freak from District 5 get a ten? She did better than me!" growls the girl from District 4. The soft glow of a fire illuminates her face. Even through the brambles and shadows and flickering light, I can see her face is twisted in fury, her lips turned up in a wolf-like snarl.

"Rilia, it's alright," soothes her district partner. "Everyone knows you're better than she is. You're golden, sweetheart." I think I see him smirk slightly, but even so, it's quickly wiped from his face.

"Yeri-" she starts to object.

Her sentence is cut short, followed by a muffled scream. Dementedly smiling, I slide my sword from her neck and tear off through the woods.


	16. Reminiscing

_Year: 16th  
>Tribute: Flint Hayson, District 11<br>F a t e u n k n o w n _

**Flint Hayson, District 11**

Water swirls on the ground below. More water than I have ever seen in my entire life. And its amount only increases. Rapidly. Second after second ticks away as I scamper higher into the branches, determined to get away from the flood. Already, several tributes have been swept away by the currents, and I refuse to join them. Their cries and pleas for help are all too real. They will haunt me until the day I die.

But when will that be?

I shake my head sadly and turn away from the dieing tributes, their hollow faces piercing my mind, their drained, hopeless screams forever ringing in my ears.


	17. Betrayal

_Year: 17th  
>Tribute: Dahlia Freden, District 2<br>D e a d _

**Dahlia Freden, District 2**

Smirking, I sprint towards my fellow Careers and halt right in front of the girl from District 4, but not before I show off with a graceful twirl. After all, I have to please the audience; I want sponsors, don't I?

Ley-something –I can't remember her name– only glares at me, hatred burning in her emerald eyes, more obvious than a flock of rainbow-colored birds. Ever since we met, we've been natural enemies. Our personalities clash. Apparently, I'm too "prancy and elegant" for her. I scoff, inward and outward. Like she's any better! She's far too self-centered, her voice much too high and squeaky. I roll my eyes. _Honestly!__The__nerve__of__that__girl!__She__has_no_right__to__tell__me__how__I__should__and__shouldn__'__t__act._

"Coming, princess?" Squeaky-girl asks innocently, cocking her head to one side as she speaks. After the rest of the Career pack has turned to leave, Squeaky glares at me and tosses her head.

Hours later, sometime in the middle of the night, a sharp pain pierces my side. Instantly, I'm up on my feet, examining myself. Through my night-vision glasses, I can just make out the gash right above my waist. Blood, sticky and fetid, pours into my hands, sluicing down my legs like a waterfall. I glance over at Squeaky and see her waving goodbye, giving me a deranged simper.

My ally has betrayed me.


	18. Scarlet Paint

_Year: 18th  
>Tribute: Nila Liston, District 12<br>D e a d _

**Nila Liston, District 12**

The smell of blood reaches my nose. My mouth twitches, but I keep running. Running to safety. I'm almost there…

Something, probably an arrow, pierces my spine. My head jerks back, and my gaze falls on the District 1 girl's satisfied face. Her jade eyes pierce mine. She smiles as one of her fellow Career friends joins her and begins to stab me repeatedly with a spear, all over my body. District 1 yanks the arrow from my spine, pins me to the ground, holds down my limbs, and languidly drags her knife down my arm. Screeching in pain, I try to thrash around, but both of my two assailants are twice my size. I'm no match for them. And so my only option is to let them torture me, District 2 whacking me with a stick and poking her spear along my body, District 1 using my blood as paint.


	19. Broken Bodies

_Year: 19th  
>Tribute: Kylling Jacet, District 10<br>U n k n o w n f a t e _

**Kylling Jacet, District 10**

I glance back at the field. There's hardly any green in sight. Most of the grass has been stained with the blood of dead tributes. This year, the Careers are even more violent, and instead of just killing their target and getting it over with, they continue the torture until there's nothing left but a broken, unrecognizable body crumpled at their feet.

Lime, the District 2 female, is the worst of all. She's small for her age – at first, I thought she was only eleven – but she's a definite fighter. One of the girls she persecuted was left with her limbs, spine, and neck broken. Every ounce of blood had been drained from her body. Eyes gauged out. Her own blood used as lipstick. Her face was scarred and feculent, her cheeks flushed, topped off with smudges of dirt and blood.

Most likely, I'll end up that way, too.


	20. In Her Shoes

_Year: 20th  
>Tribute: Chase Winters, District 4<br>A l i v e_

**Chase Winters, District 4**

"Watch out!" Seda screeches from behind me. I whirl around, trying to figure out what's wrong, but that only makes things worse. My feet slide on the ice for several seconds before I plunk down.

The ice is too fragile to hold my weight. With deafening cracks, it spreads, and I'm dumped into the icy bucket of torture.

I wake up with a start, breathing heavily as I recall the nightmare. Those moments still haunt me every day. I put myself in Seda's shoes, see myself screaming out to her as I plunge to my death, watch as she gazes helplessly at me with those peculiar eyes that will never, never leave me.

_I__'__m __so __sorry, __Seda. __Please __forgive __me._


End file.
